


Crisis of Conscience

by Miko



Category: Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-13
Updated: 2008-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:50:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cliff might be one of the Federation's most wanted terrorists, but his conscience comes through loud and clear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crisis of Conscience

There were few things Cliff dreaded more than coming into town for supplies and seeing Fayt homing in on the nearest workshop. It wasn't that he was running down the kid's enthusiasm for inventing things, really. It kept Fayt happy and distracted, and a happy and distracted Fayt was a Good Thing in Cliff's books. The last thing the Klausian wanted was his charge brooding over why exactly the leader of Quark would want to see him, or why the Vendeeni were after him in the first place. Fayt tended to start asking awkward questions whenever he got to brooding, and Cliff wasn't going to be able to hold him off by playing the big dumb warrior forever.

And he certainly couldn't argue with the results of their time in the workshops. Fayt had turned out to be a pretty dab hand at coming up with designs for new weapons and armour, and Nel had enough experience to be able to steer him in the right direction when the kid got unrealistic. The stuff they made was almost always superior to what was available in the local stores, and Cliff appreciated the difference in quality when they had monsters breathing down their necks.

It wasn't even that he disliked the effort that went into creating things. Quite the opposite, in fact. Cliff enjoyed physical challenges of any kind, and the strength and stamina required to properly forge a good weapon were right up his alley. Pounding away on the heated metal with a hammer was downright soothing sometimes, a good way to work off stress without risking life and limb in a fight. He did get a little bored when they wandered into some of the other areas of inventing, but most of the time they were smithing.

No, the part Cliff hated most about being in the workshop was the moment when things went wrong. The steel wouldn't temper properly, or the armour would be too thin, or any one of a hundred other problems would crop up. They got duds a lot more often than successes, especially when Fayt decided it would be a good idea to push the limits of what they knew they could do.

Inevitably when the finished product didn't meet expectations, Fayt would put on his glasses and hunker down over the design, trying to figure out where they'd made the mistake. He would spend hours at it sometimes, pouring over diagrams and calculations with a fierce little frown of concentration, his eyes narrowed behind the lenses.

And it drove Cliff a little further towards the edge of madness every time.

Fayt was an attractive enough kid for the most part, in good shape and well put-together. But something about the way he looked in those glasses punched every single button Cliff had, and quite a few he hadn't been aware he possessed. Fayt was _hot_ , in a way that Cliff found absolutely impossible to ignore. Every damn time it was all the Klausian could do to keep himself from marching over there, grabbing the kid by the shoulders, and kissing the living hell out of him.

In fact, just thinking about it distracted Cliff badly enough that he brought his hammer down at completely the wrong angle. The heated steel of the sword he'd been forging snapped cleanly at the edge of the anvil where he'd struck it, the last third of the blade clattering to the floor. It just missed piercing him in the foot, which would have been a hell of an embarrassing injury.

Staring at the ruin of what _had_ been shaping up to be a damn fine sword, Cliff scowled. "Fucking..." If the air in the workshop hadn't already been sweltering from the heat of the forge, it would have blistered in the wake of the string of inventive curses he let out.

When he ran out of creative expletives, Cliff ground to a halt and looked up, his expression daring either of the others to chide him for his moment of inattention. Instead he found Fayt looking back at him with an expression of mingled awe and chagrin.

"Was that last thing you mentioned even physically _possible_?" the younger man asked him, with some amusement. "I'm pretty sure most of the rest of it wasn't."

"Only if you're very flexible, and don't mind getting cut in some uncomfortable places," Cliff told him sourly. "Look, that was entirely my fault, there's no reason we should change the design."

But Fayt had already opened up the sheet with the most recent schematic revisions and he was reaching for his glasses. "Nah, I sort of had a brainwave about how to work some offensive magic into the equation, so this'll give me a chance to redesign it a bit. Take a break, Cliff, you've made the last three attempts practically all on your own."

And here they went again. Groaning, Cliff wiped the sweat off his forehead and turned away, trying not to watch as Fayt bent over his papers. Cliff _had_ been pretty much single-handedly doing the grunt work in this round of inventing, hoping to wear himself out and stay distracted.

"Maybe we should call it a night?" he suggested hopefully. "You could go over the diagrams in the inn, you'd be more comfortable."

"Cliff, it's barely mid-afternoon," Fayt laughingly protested. "I'm _sure_ we can get this finished today, and then I'll be better able to keep up with you and Nel. Just sit down for a bit, maybe eat something."

"Yeah, but...". Frustrated, Cliff cast about for any excuse not to have to sit and watch Fayt for the next however many hours. "You're gonna strain your eyes, kid, the light in here is awful. Don't you agree, Nel?" He paused, but there was no answer. "Nel?"

Turning in a slow circle, he finally spotted her slumped over a table in the corner, her head pillowed on her arms. She was fast asleep and looked like she'd been that way for some time. "Oh, great," Cliff grumbled, scowling. So much for hoping for assistance from that direction. He couldn't really blame her, though. With the way Cliff had been monopolizing all the physical activity and Fayt was hoarding the diagrams, she must have been bored stiff.

Unfortunately, his search for Nel had brought him back around to a position where he could see Fayt. Worse still, the kid was grinning at him, looking like an adorable little geek in those glasses.

 _He's half your age,_ Cliff reminded himself fiercely, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. _You're practically old enough to be his father. Gods above and below, you_ are _the closest thing Maria's got to a father, and he's the same age as her! More than that, he's your_ mission _, not some kid you met in a bar. Get your mind back on the damn job, Fitter!_

"Fine," he said aloud, the word grudging. "You do whatever you need to do, I'll be over here. Maybe Nel's got the right idea."

He settled heavily into a seat as far as he could get from Fayt, which unfortunately in the cramped area of the workshop wasn't nearly far enough. Deliberately he turned his attention to the remains of one of their previous projects, an attempt to recreate some of Fayt's favourite food from Earth. It wasn't half bad, really, but it did little to hold his attention.

It would have helped, he reflected ruefully, if it hadn't been so damn long since the last chance he'd had to, er, relieve that particular sort of stress. He should have taken the opportunity before this mission to get some proper R&R. Only someone had needed to stay on board the ship and supervise the repairs to the starboard engine, and Mirage had complained that she hadn't gotten shore leave for three missions running. Cliff hadn't begrudged his partner the chance to unwind at the time, but now he regretted it.

Despite what the majority of people seemed to believe, he and Mirage were _not_ screwing around with each other. They'd worked together for too long and too well to want to risk fucking up their partnership for the sake of physical gratification they could get from anyone.

'Anyone', of course, being 'anyone he had the time and patience to bother seducing'. Patience he had in plenty, but time was a commodity he'd been sorely lacking on this mission. What was supposed to be a simple retrieval and transport mission had turned into weeks on a backwater planet with no end in sight. They weren't staying in any one place long enough for him to make nice with a local, and anyway his job was to protect Fayt. If something happened to the kid while Cliff was off chasing skirts - or pants, he wasn't particular - Cliff would never forgive himself.

It wasn't just the potential smirch on his professional honour that irked Cliff, either. He'd come to genuinely like and respect the kid, and wanted to protect him for Fayt's own sake. And that right there was the root of the problem, or part of it. He was trapped spending most of his time in the company of an incredibly hot kid that he honestly cared for, his hormones were on overdrive, and his conscience was screaming at him for even _thinking_ about it.

He made the mistake of glancing up, and got a full-on look at Fayt nibbling absently on the tip of the stylus he used to write changes on the diagram. That was one provocation too many for Cliff's overloaded system. Cursing under his breath he jumped out of his seat, narrowly managing to avoid overturning the table with a crash that surely would have awakened Nel.

"I'm going to get some air," he blurted out in response to Fayt's surprised and concerned look. And then he fled just as fast as his feet could carry him.

Outside it was crisp and cold, especially after the heated atmosphere of the workshop. Kirlsa wasn't as high in the mountains as Airyglyph, but it was still a lot cooler than anywhere in Aquaria. Cliff took deep gulps of the fresh air, heading into the narrow alley between the workshop and the next building where passers-by wouldn't be able to spot him. Leaning his forearm on the wall, he banged his head repeatedly against it. Damn it, he had to get a grip on himself, or this wasn't going to end well.

"Cliff?"

Lost in thoughts he could probably be arrested just for having, Cliff was caught off guard enough that the sound of his name made him jump. He spun to face the mouth of the alley, landing instinctively in a fighting crouch even though he already knew this was one battle he couldn't win with his fists.

Sure enough, Fayt had followed him out of the workshop. He was standing there with the early afternoon sunlight pouring down on him through a break in the clouds, looking nervous and worried. And, all the gods damn him, he was still wearing the fucking glasses.

"I'm fine," Cliff rasped, desperately trying to put some conviction into his voice. He had a sinking feeling he wasn't doing a very good job of it. "Really, Fayt, I just need a few minutes. No big deal." _Go away, leave me alone and for fuck's sakes don't come any closer!_ he added silently, projecting the thoughts fiercely as if he could implant them in Fayt's brain if he just tried hard enough.

"You've been acting weird for a while now," Fayt accused him. Any hopes Cliff might have harboured of being a latent telepath were shattered when the boy stepped closer to him, coming out of the sunbeam into the relatively dim light of the alley. "And I know it's got something to do with me, you keep _staring_ at me when you think I'm not watching. What is it? What aren't you telling me, damn it?" He had a mulish expression on his face that made him look even younger than Cliff knew him to be. He usually did when he was demanding information he - rightly - suspected Cliff was keeping hidden from him.

For a moment Cliff was actually tempted to blurt out the real reason Quark and the Vendeeni were both so interested in the boy. Anything to distract him, to make him stop frowning with that fierce expression that somehow made him look so utterly fuckable, to keep him from coming that one last step closer...

Later, Cliff would rationalize his actions to himself by saying that he'd had to do _something_ to keep from revealing confidential information to the kid. At the time, there wasn't anything really resembling a coherent thought process going on in his brain. Fayt took one more step, bringing him in reach, and Cliff lost his last shred of control.

Snapping his hands out, he caught Fayt by the shoulders and all but slammed the boy back into the wall. Some tiny vestige of sense lurking in the back of his brain reminded him that Earthlings were more fragile than Klausians and he didn't use his full strength, but Fayt would probably have nasty bruises from the brick surface anyway.

Eyes wide, Fayt started to protest the rough handling, but he hadn't gotten past the first syllable before he was muffled by Cliff's mouth pressing firmly against his. He made an astonished noise closer to a squeak than his dignity probably would have liked, and clutched at Cliff's shoulders in return.

He tasted even better than Cliff had dreamed he would, like mint and snow and sugar mixed with something indefinable but addicting. Better yet, after the first moment of stunned inaction he moaned and opened his mouth, almost before Cliff had even begun to probe for access. Their tongues met and tangled; Cliff wasn't sure if he was surprised or not to discover that he definitely wasn't Fayt's first kiss. The boy knew what he was doing, that was for sure.

Before either of them had a chance to get too wrapped up in it Cliff managed to regain enough willpower to wrench himself away, though he couldn't quite force himself to back off entirely. Panting, his hands probably tight enough on Fayt's shoulders to leave more bruises, Cliff stared down at him.

Fayt stared right back, his green eyes wide with surprise and something that was far too close to need for Cliff's remaining sanity. "Why'd you stop?" he demanded, sounding dazed. That didn't help Cliff's control any, either.

"You... you're..." Struggling for words, Cliff shook his head. "This is a bad idea," he finally declared somewhat lamely.

"Why?" Fayt asked again, surprising Cliff. "Did you think I was the sort of prude who'd be offended by having a guy make a pass at me?" He grinned. "Honestly, Cliff. I'm a university student. I'm used to it. And I certainly don't mind."

"That's not the point!" Cliff returned hotly. "I'm not just any guy, Fayt, I'm supposed to be guarding you. And for god's sake, I'm twice your age!"

Now Fayt was frowning at him. "I'm nineteen, Cliff," he pointed out, irritated. "That's over the age of consent for humans anywhere in the Federation. Are you really twice my age?" he added in a surprised aside. "You don't look it."

"Almost," Cliff told him grudgingly. "But that's not the point. We shouldn't..."

"Cliff!" Fayt interrupted him, even going so far as to hang onto him when Cliff tried again to pull away. "Do you want me, or not? _That's_ the only thing that matters. Because," his eyes slid away like he couldn't quite look at Cliff straight on, and his cheeks went a little pink, "I certainly wouldn't say 'no'. I, um. I've wanted you since I met you. But you never showed any interest."

"I've been doing a better job of hiding it than I thought I was, then," Cliff muttered wryly. "Though I didn't have any real trouble until you put on those damned glasses!"

"My glasses?" Fayt's flush increased, but he met Cliff's eyes again with an incredulous expression. "Now you're just teasing me. I look like a dork with these on, that's why I only wear them when I have to."

He reached up self-consciously to remove them, but Cliff caught him by the wrist before he could get that far. "Don't," the older man ordered him gruffly. "They make you look hot."

Wait, why had he stopped Fayt? With the glasses off, it would have been a lot easier for him to get his self-control back! Fayt was looking at him suspiciously, certain he was being teased, but something in Cliff's expression must have convinced him. Slowly he grinned again, heat showing in his eyes. "Maybe I'll have to wear them more often, then, if it's going to get you to pin me against walls like this."

Now it was Cliff's turn to flush, but he was running out of excuses. His conscience was still telling him loud and clear that he really should not be doing this, but if Fayt was willing then he didn't think he had the strength of mind to keep denying himself something he wanted so badly.

"Only if you want to take the risk of having me jump you in public," Cliff warned him. "It's been all I could do to keep my hands off you every time you go for the blueprints."

"So _that's_ why you always try to talk me out of going to the workshops!" Fayt realized, laughing. "I think I might just develop an interest in the areas of item creation we've been ignoring up until now. I have a sudden desire to spend more time designing."

Groaning, Cliff gave in to what was apparently inevitable. Now that Fayt knew about the attraction, he clearly wasn't planning to relent on the subject. Klausians were stronger and more durable than the average human, but the genetic shift hadn't increased their willpower any.

Leaning down, he kissed the younger man fiercely again. Fayt participated just as enthusiastically this time as he had before, his hands fisting in Cliff's shirt to hold him in place. They were pressed together from shoulders to hips, and Cliff could feel the evidence of Fayt's growing interest pressed against his thigh. His own cock was already hard against Fayt's hip, and he could tell the younger man had noticed when Fayt started rocking up subtly against him.

Fayt was several inches shorter than Cliff, but the Klausian was used to that. At least the boy was taller than many of the women he'd been with over the years, so he didn't have to break his back to kiss him.

The kiss grew more passionate as it continued and Cliff felt like he was overheating. He was hardly a teenager any more, he wasn't used to feeling overwhelmed by something as simple as a kiss, but he also wasn't used to denying himself something until the desire for it had turned into need.

Catching Fayt's hips in his hands, Cliff lifted him higher up the wall until their cocks were pressed together through the material of their pants. There could be absolutely no doubt that they were both willing and eager. Fayt gave a muffled cry against Cliff's lips as the older man rocked into him, his legs wrapping around Cliff's waist to help hold him in place.

This was getting out of hand far too fast, but Cliff couldn't seem to slow things down. It was as if, now that he'd given himself permission to have what he'd wanted so badly, he'd lost all measure of restraint where Fayt was concerned.

Not like the boy was complaining. Far from it. Fayt's hands were sliding down over Cliff's chest, clearly heading for regions further south. He fumbled briefly with the double layers of Cliff's pants, but figured out quickly enough that he could ignore the leather chaps and just open the lighter pants beneath.

The moment when Fayt's slender hand slipped into his pants and wrapped around Cliff's erection was the closest the older man had ever come to seeing stars. It was like an explosion of pleasure, crashing over him hard enough to make him catch his breath. There wasn't a lot of room to manoeuvre between their bodies and the restriction of clothes made it more difficult, but Fayt gave it his best shot. He rubbed his thumb over the tip of Cliff's cock and squeezed his fingers hard enough to be just on the good side of pain.

At least Cliff could console himself with the thought that this was pretty obviously not the first handjob the kid had ever given. He might be cradle-robbing, but he wasn't corrupting the boy.

Belatedly realizing that he ought to be returning the favour, he shifted Fayt's weight so he could support it with one hand and his thigh angled beneath the boy's ass. That freed his other hand to explore, but he was too impatient to take his time about it. Slow discovery could come later, if there was a later. Gods but he hoped so. He didn't think just this one time was going to be enough to sate him.

Immediately, however, he ran into trouble. He hadn't realized before this just how much armour Fayt wore below the waist. Considering his upper body was all but unprotected, it seemed a bit like overkill. "You made this difficult on purpose," Cliff finally broke the kiss to accuse him, struggling with the multiple layers of belts and leather.

Moaning, Fayt arched up into his hand in encouragement. "I didn't, I swear," he panted. "I never really thought about it. I... oh, God, Cliff!" he broke off as Cliff finally managed to get past the last layer and wrap his hand around Fayt's cock in turn.

Fayt was heavy and solid in his hand, and the noises he made as Cliff stroked him were absolutely sinful. Fiercely Cliff wished they were in one of the inns, or at least in a place somewhat more private so he could strip the boy down and do this properly. He didn't quite dare do it here, where anyone could come down the alley or Nel could come looking for them at any moment.

"Tonight," he growled without thinking about it. "Tonight we are staying in the damned inn, and Nel can have her own damned room. On the other side of the building. I want to _see_ you, damn it."

Fayt shuddered against him with another heartfelt moan. "Yes. Oh, please. God, Cliff, promise?" His cock actually twitched against Cliff's hand, and he shuddered again.

"It's a promise," Cliff agreed, because what else could he say? If he'd had any idea Fayt would be _this_ willing, he'd have lost his control a long time ago.

He twisted his hand, rubbing his thumb against the place where the head of Fayt's cock met the shaft, and the boy cried out again. Fayt retaliated by pressing over the slit of Cliff's cock, which made the Klausian groan at him in turn. He sped his pace, wanting more than anything to see Fayt lose his cool entirely.

It didn't take much effort, really. Fayt _was_ a teenager, and in minutes he was rocking up into each stroke of Cliff's hand, making a continuous string of needy sounds in the back of his throat. Feeling the boy's body tense beneath him, Cliff leaned in and kissed him again.

He was just in time to muffle Fayt's strangled shout as the boy reached orgasm, shuddering against Cliff and flooding the older man's hand with sticky white come. Fayt's hand faltered briefly on Cliff's cock, but he recovered remarkably quickly and sped his strokes as well.

Cliff normally prided himself on his endurance, but he'd already demonstrated his utter lack of control when it came to Fayt. It didn't take much longer before he could feel his balls tightening, his breath coming in sharp, short pants as he struggled to hold off his release. He wanted to enjoy this, draw it out as long as possible, but Fayt was just too damned good with his fingers.

Finally he could deny himself no longer, and this time it was Fayt's turn to muffle Cliff's cry with another kiss. Cliff came harder than he could remember doing in a very long time, not since he'd been a teenager himself.

Struggling just to breathe, he leaned into Fayt and pressed the younger man into the wall, trying to keep his knees from giving out on him. "Damn," he rasped, his voice more than just husky. "Damn, Fayt." He felt like he should say something more than that, but the words wouldn't come. Slowly he released the tight grip he had on the boy's hip, and let him slide down to stand on his own feet.

Fayt didn't seem any more coherent, resting his head against Cliff's shoulder and just moaning faintly. He also didn't seem to be in any hurry to get out from between the larger man and the wall, thankfully. Indeed, his clean hand was still twisted in the fabric of Cliff's shirt, holding tight.

When Fayt did manage to speak, his words caught Cliff completely off guard. "You are _so_ not too old for me," the younger man told him fiercely, his voice just as hoarse as Cliff's had been.

"If you say so, kid," Cliff replied somewhat facetiously, and grinned when Fayt lifted his head to glare at the endearment. Privately, Cliff resolved to ignore the lectures and looks he knew he was going to get from Mirage and Maria when they found out about this. And his conscience could just go to hell.

The rest of him would probably join it there soon enough. But damned if Fayt wasn't worth the hassle.

It took them longer than it should have to straighten their clothes and make themselves presentable again. Mostly because they kept trying to 'help' each other and stealing touches along the way. It was a thoroughly distracting but pleasant process, and Cliff found he was avidly looking forward to nightfall.

When they re-entered the workshop they found a sleepy-looking Nel standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, frowning. "There you are," she exclaimed as they came in. "I was starting to wonder if you'd decided to run off on me after all."

"Nah, just getting some air," Cliff assured her easily. He had no idea what the attitude towards men together was on Elicoor, let alone how she might react to the age issue, so it seemed wisest to stay quiet about the matter. Frankly, it was none of her damn business. Thankfully, she'd made no real efforts to pry as long as they continued to come with her willingly.

"I think we should pack it in for the day," Fayt declared unexpectedly, making both Nel and Cliff blink at him in surprise. Normally he refused to quit until they'd either successfully created what they were after or they were all falling asleep on their feet. "I've got some new ideas that'll take me a while to incorporate into the designs, and there's no reason to make you guys sit around in the workshop while I do it. We can come back tomorrow and try again."

"There's an inn just around the corner," Nel told them, shrugging her acceptance. "We should be able to get rooms there, as long as we're careful not to let them know we're from Aquaria."

"Good enough," Cliff agreed. "Fayt, you uh, want some help with those designs?" Not that they'd get much designing done, not if they had the room to themselves. Maybe it would be just as well for Fayt to work alone...

"Of course," Fayt surprised him again by saying. The heated gleam in his eyes was unmistakeable as he added, "You did promise, after all."

Realizing the boy had never intended to change the design, Cliff grinned back at him. "Right. Well, I always do my best to keep my promises." He tried to keep the heat out of his own expression, but he didn't think he was succeeding very well.

Nel was glancing back and forth between them with one eyebrow raised. The look in her eyes was just a little too knowing for Cliff's peace of mind. "I don't want to know," was all she said. "As long as we get the equipment made and we're out of Kirlsa by the end of tomorrow, you two can spend as much time... designing... as you like."

Fayt flushed again, and Cliff had an uncomfortable suspicion that his own cheeks might be a bit pink as well. At least she wasn't berating him. "We'll be ready," he assured her.

"Good. Then let's head out," she said, moving towards the door. "Try to at least get _some_ sleep tonight, please. It'll be a long walk to Arias otherwise."

Behind her back Fayt gave Cliff a sheepish look, and the older man shrugged and spread his hands. Then he grinned and slung one arm over Fayt's shoulders in a 'friendly' gesture and steered him towards the door. "C'mon," he exhorted the boy. "The sooner we get there, the sooner you can get to work."

As they left, Cliff realized that Fayt still hadn't taken off the damned glasses. Groaning silently, he wondered if the boy was planning to wear them all the time from now on. Probably not into battle... but unless he was very much mistaken, he was going to become very familiar with all the workshops between Airyglyph and Aquios.

And probably with all the secluded alleys nearby, as well.

Grinning to himself, Cliff concluded there were certainly worse fates. Or maybe worse Fayts, as it were. Either way, he was _so_ not complaining.


End file.
